


Collision

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: All This Shit is Weird, Angst First Fluff Later, Dorian is a Little Shit, F/M, The Inquisitor's Sister is Scarier than Him, Vivienne Disapproves, eventual side pairings, so many trevelyans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-03-30 00:13:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13938456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In 9:41 Dragon, Katherine and Matthew Trevelyan snuck into the Divine Conclave to find their missing siblings.Katherine never asked for demons falling from the sky, or ancient Tevinter mages coming back from the dead, or dangerous games that tilt the future of entire nations. She'll do anything for her family, no matter who stands in her way.Even if that person is Commander Cullen Rutherford.





	1. Roots

_Em & Will,_

_Happy Birthday! This will arrive early, but I wanted to be the first to tell you that Mother and Father have already received confirmation that the Circle has approved your visit home. Matthew and I have been planning your party for a fortnight—your_ real _party, that starts exactly at midnight when we sneak out of the ball that Mother and Father are throwing for you. Although that party is sure to be entertaining (we all know how much we make the other families uncomfortable), you might want to start preparing yourselves for ours. Get some rest and make sure you’re hydrated, little ones. You only turn twenty-four once._

_All my love,_

_Katie_

***

 _Katie & Matt,_

_You’re monsters. Will has had a hangover since we left, and I’ve just barely recovered. The party was amazing. We love you so much._

_Will sends his love from the privy. He’s spending most his time there._

_Andraste save you, because we’re all going to the Void after that._

_Emilie_

_PS—did anyone ever find that girl’s shoes?_

***

_Matt,_

_Tell Katie I hate her and I’m not speaking to her until Satinalia. I don’t understand how such a tiny woman can hold so much alcohol._

_Thanks for the party, brother._

_Will_

***

_Willie! Glad you’re not dead._

_I regret to inform you, dear little one, but_ you _challenged_ her _to a drinking match. A death wish if there ever was one. (After she’d drunk you under the table, she also out-drank a nearby dwarf and two Dalish elves. It was a sight to see.)_

_That Circle is making you soft, I think. Better come home more often, can’t have you shaming the Trevelyan name._

_Matt_

_PS—there’s trouble in Kirkwall. Keep your eyes open._

***

_Katie,_

_Will’s been talking to the Templars, and I’ve been talking to a couple girls here who have relatives in the Gallows. It’s a right mess, what’s going on there. I’ve written Mother and Father to tell them we’re safe here, because I don’t want them to worry, but things are tense. It might be time for a family reunion._

_Love you._

_Emilie_

***

_Emilie,_

_I’m glad you wrote. I’ve spoken with Matt, and he agrees that it’s best you come home. Father has sent a letter requesting your immediate visit for a family emergency, but we’ve received no response yet. I’ll update you when we do._

_I love you. Stay safe, send my love to Will._

_Katie_

***

_Em & Will,_

_They still haven’t responded, and Matthew’s gone to Ostwick to see if he can get any information. See if you can ask the Head Enchanter what the delay is._

_Love you both._

_Katie_

***

_Dear Head Enchanter Lydia,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing on behalf of myself and my husband, Lord Tristan Trevelyan, to inquire on the status of our visitation request for our children, Emilie Trevelyan and William Trevelyan. As we stated previously, there has been a serious family occurrence and it is imperative that they return home as soon as possible. We understand the necessity for security in these uncertain times, but Emilie and William have exemplary behavioral records, and our family a longstanding history of both Chantry and Circle support._

_I thank you for the incredible support you have provided over these many years, looking after my children and guiding their education. It is a blessing to have you take care of them, and I ask now that, in their best interest, they can return home to be with their family during this difficult time._

_My sincerest regards,_

_Lady Annabel Victoria Caldwell Trevelyan_

***

_Em & Will,_

_I hope this reaches you in time. Mother won’t tell me anything, but everyone’s got ten thousand stories about Kirkwall. It’s only a matter of time, and Mattie and I are determined to keep you safe should Ostwick fall. I know they go through any parcels we send you, so Mattie had some of his… connections set up a cache of supplies for you, in our meeting place. There is enough to get you home, or at least somewhere safe until you can send word. If anything_ _happens, I want you both to watch each other’s backs and stay safe. I hope to hear from you soon._

_Maker preserve you and Andraste guide your way._

_I love you._

_Katie_

***

_Kate—_

_The Circle’s fallen. I’m looking for them._

_—Matt_


	2. The Sound of Silence

Her dress itched.

Katherine Trevelyan was outfitted in fine Orlesian silk, but the seamstresses flitting around her hadn’t quite finished the stitching on the lace. She stood still as a statute, but it was terribly uncomfortable. 

“Stay dressed up,” Her mother implored. “Some of my friends will arrive shortly, and I want them to see you.”

Kate bit back a retort about how no noble heir was going to fall for her because of his _mother_ ’s recommendation, because she knew what the reply would be. _The mothers are the matchmakers_. It was a mantra drilled into her brain since she was old enough to know the meaning of the words ‘arranged marriage’.

Instead, she carefully smoothed down her skirt and kept her voice even. “Have we heard from Matthew this week?”

“No.” Annabel replied. “Any word on the twins?”

Kate shook her head. First, the Ostwick Tower was put into lockdown. No one in, and no one out. They didn’t know if it was an uprising, or the Chantry taking extraordinary precautions, but they couldn’t get any word from her youngest siblings, Emilie and William. Matt had left to connect with some friends in Kirkwall who are more… _familiar_ with the mage rebellion. The family needed answers. Before long, he sent word about the Ostwick Circle rebelling. They’d heard horrifying rumors, but nothing concrete besides the fact that the Templars were no longer present. The Circle had fallen.

That was months ago.

“We'll hear soon, Mother.” Kate said quietly, hoping to soothe the crease between her mother’s brows. “Em and Will are smart, and damn clever mages.” The Trevelyan’s were a devout family, but her mother both worshiped the Maker and loved her children—wholly and unconditionally. Annabel Trevelyan never saw the two as mutually exclusive. Matthew had been home infrequently, chasing down leads. They had no idea where their younger siblings had gone, or why it was taking so long for them to send word or get home.

Soon, her mother’s friends were announced—fine women, all of them, and they trailed into her mother’s salon with the familiarity of old friends. Kate liked them plenty, but she’d never felt anything but friendly respect (or sometimes annoyance) for their sons, and they all knew it.

But Kate gave them her best smile anyway, making a show of daintily stepping down from the seamstress’ stool and fanning out her new dress. They fawned over her as was appropriate, noting how “ _She looks just like you, Anna._ ”

Kate made her excuses and ducked out as soon as she could.

***

A short time later, she was free of her silk trappings, and made a beeline for the training yard. Kate hefted her longbow from its stand, relishing the feeling of the smooth weapon as she carefully inspected the string for any fraying. Picking up her bow felt like coming home after a long journey. It felt right.

She carried the weapon to the field, nodding a friendly greeting to Arthur as she passed him. 

“Good morning, my lady.” The warrior gave her a wide grin. He was just a couple of years older than her, and had served her family since their teens.

“Good morning, Ser Arthur.” Kate caught a flicker of deep blues and greens from the corner of her eye, and knew that her mother was watching from the balcony with the cohort of noble ladies she held as confidantes. Kate couldn’t look more different than when they saw her earlier; she’d carefully braided her hair up and away from her face, and her Orlesian silk dress was replaced with sturdy breeches and her favorite plum tunic. She couldn’t help a smirk as she gracefully lifted an arrow and knocked it, drawing the bow back fully and taking her time to carefully aim. The draw weight on her bow was over half of Kate’s own weight, but she held it with ease. She released with a breath, her fingers grazing her neck as her hand fell back automatically.

Of course, the arrow found its home in the center of the target.

***

“She likes to say that she won’t marry a man who can’t best her in archery,” Annabel noted in an amused tone as she watched her daughter bury another arrow in the center of the target. “But I’m starting to wonder if such a young man exists.”

Miriam chuckled, her golden eyes flickering with amusement. “Sounds a bit like someone we know.”

Annabel shot her a look, but smirked anyways.

***

Kate had lined up another shot, and had just barely released when Arthur abruptly called out to her.

“Kate! I mean—” He shot a glance at the balcony behind him. “My lady.” His blonde hair was falling into his eyes, and he looked deadly serious. Kate glanced to the side, where a runner was retreating. Arthur held a letter, and even at this distance she recognized that handwriting. “It’s your brother.”

“Here,” Kate bound over to him—the top of her head barely reached the tall warrior’s shoulder, but Kate was nothing if not lightning fast—and took the piece of paper from his outstretched hand. “Thank you, Arthur.”

She read quickly, and silently, and felt her mother’s eyes on her from the balcony.

_Kate—_

_I’ve tracked them down. There’s going to be a big event, a peace meeting between the Templars and Mages. The Divine herself is facilitating it. They’re calling it the Conclave. I have it on good authority that Em and Will are going to be there._

_Meet me in Ferelden, at the Temple of Sacred Ashes._

_—Matt_

Kate clutched the letter to her chest, glancing up to catch Arthur’s blue eyes. She must have blanched, because he suddenly set a steadying hand on her elbow.

He’d found them. They were alive.

_Oh, Maker._


	3. Start A War

Kate barely arrived in Ferelden in time for this Conclave. Arthur had accompanied her all the way to the port, but then she was on her own. She made it to Haven, a small village just outside of the Temple that was suddenly the host for what seemed to be all of Thedas.

She’d have never found Matt, if not for his penchant for obnoxiously bright accessories. This one was an impossibly orange scarf, from a friend in Rivain, and she rolled her eyes every time she saw it wound around his neck.

“You look terrible in orange,” Kate sighed as she hugged him tight. It wasn’t quite true, because he’d gotten a bit more tan on his latest ventures, but she teased him anyways. Matt’s dark hair, just as curly as hers, fell into his eyes and she brushed it back. “And you’ve apparently forgotten how to cut your hair.”

“I love you too, sis.” Matt laughed, and she smiled.

“So.” Kate glanced around. “Where are they?”

“It’s all about to start,” Matt waved a hand up the mountain. “They’re already there. I’m going to go up and get them.”

“Okay, let’s go then.” Kate moved to readjust the pack on her shoulders, and Matt stopped her.

“I… I have to go alone.” He lifted his eyebrows apologetically, and Kate immediately scowled. “Our name only scored one invite, because you and I are neither Templars, Mages, Chantry, or impartial mercenaries.”

“I can be a mercenary,” She deadpanned. “I’ll be your guard.”

“You—” Matt stared down at her, a sudden reminder that he towered over her short stature—as did almost everyone. “While I know that you could take them all, Katie, it would look a little off if _you_ were _my_ bodyguard. And since my invitation is a little flimsy as it is, I don’t want to draw any extra attention. I’m going to go in, snatch our missing siblings, and get out as quickly as possible. This place is a ticking bomb, what with all this tension and people who _really_ hate each other.” His hazel eyes were wide. “I don’t want to be here when it blows.”

Kate glared at him for a long time, but he didn’t relent. “…Fine.” She huffed, folding her arms. “But you better be quick.”

***

Matthew was _not_ quick.

Kate had taken up residence in the village tavern, downing one drink too many as she waited and passed the time by glaring at anyone within eyeshot. If it drew attention to her, who cared. She was dressed as ordinarily as possible, but she had daggers strapped to her hips and one slid into her boot. Let someone try to bother her.

The sun had set. Apparently, the negotiations would begin first thing in the morning, but by then Kate and her siblings would be long gone. Back to the Free Marches, back home where they belong.

And then the entire valley shook with thunder.

Her first thought—lightning? A High Dragon? Something had exploded, something terrible, something—

 _The Conclave_.

Her drink forgotten, Kate wove her way through the clamoring patrons of the tavern and pushed outside. The village was in chaos, and when she looked up—

The Temple of Sacred Ashes was gone.

In its place, on the ruined mountainside, was an eerie green light that flared through the sky, crackling as it spread, and it sent chills of dread up Kate’s arms. _Shit._

This was bad.

She immediately unsheathed her daggers and rushed through the throng of people. No one seemed to be going in any particular direction—some ran towards the Temple, some away from it. It wasn’t until she got closer that she realized why.

The green ball of energy shot lightning down to the ground near her, sparking back in a clap of thunder, and tossing out writhing gray phantoms and wraiths in its wake.

 _Demons_.

Kate’s heart stutter-stepped as she flew to a halt. It was the Fade, that _otherworld_ , that spirit-world that mages could reach. Demons were rising from the Fade in front of her eyes, somehow thrown into their world without securing human hosts.

_Oh, Maker help us._

The demons tore through the villagers like paper. They were spawning everywhere; in front of her, behind her, and people were circling like mad trying to escape. With a glance up the mountain, Kate gripped her daggers, running before she knew she meant to, straight for those horrifying monsters.

_Forgive me, Matt._

She would go up and find them, as soon as she could. But first, these people needed help. She rolled and ducked and slashed, vanished before the demons could get a claw on her, herded as many people away from them as she could. Some helped, there were soldiers and mages in their ranks, who took her lead and pushed the demons back.

It took them nearly two hours to clear the village, and it was absolute carnage. Whatever forces had been in charge were already up the mountain, brining back news of even more devastation.

Kate had a horrid gash across her abdomen, and more than her share of scrapes and bruises on her arms and face. Her ankle twinged when she walked on it, and her trick knee was loose. She sheathed her daggers and sprinted towards the mountain.

There was a wall of armed men, a line of defense should the demons return this far. They wouldn’t let her through.

“But, my siblings are up there—”

“I’m sorry, miss.” One, old enough to be her father, shook his head sadly. “They’ve already been up to search. The entire Temple is gone; there are no survivors.”

No survivors.

Kate’s heart lurched into her throat, and it felt as if the ground had opened up underneath her. She was weightless, empty, as she backed away from them.

Matthew had smiled at her, ruffled her hair, when he turned to walk up that path. Told her to be ready when he came back. She hadn’t seen Emilie and Will since their birthday—what was the last thing she’d said to them? Had she told them how much she loved them? They’d all been so hungover, Will’s light auburn hair sticking out at all angles and Emilie’s freckled face even paler than usual. She couldn’t even remember if she’d hugged them.

Kate’s knees hit the dirt, her heart shattering into a million pieces.

 _They can’t be gone_ —she heaved a sob, vision blurred. _I can’t be alone_.

And then a flash of orange caught her eye.

A vibrant scarf, Rivaini-embellished, shredded and splattered with blood.

_Matthew._

Kate suddenly felt air rush back into her lungs. He was injured, and unconscious, and being carried down the mountain by a group of soldiers. That stupid scarf was still tangled around his neck.

_Matthew._

She screamed his name, giving no heed to anyone in her path as she hauled herself up and ran. Sprinted to his side, her Matthew, her big brother—

A woman turned and blocked her. She was tall, and made of iron, and glared down at her with an even intensity that stopped Kate in her tracks.

Something in the back of Kate’s brain clicked, the part of her that had been drilled since infancy to never forget a name or a face. This was the Divine’s Left Hand.

But any fear she had for Sister Nightingale was overwhelmed by her love for her brother, and she glared. “Where are you taking him?”

“For questioning.” The red-haired woman regarded her curiously. “This is the only survivor, and currently our only suspect. He is our prisoner for now.”

“Prisoner? Are you _mad_?” Kate knew she was shouting, and she distantly understood that it wouldn’t make a difference to these people—but she couldn’t _stop._ “Matthew would never! He couldn’t have, he—”

“Commander.” Sister Nightingale’s voice was flat, and she turned to vanish into the Chantry as Kate’s vision was suddenly overwhelmed with a giant chest plate covered in ichor and blood. She looked up sharply, recognizing the former Knight-Captain Rutherford of Kirkwall. She’d never seen the man this close; close enough to see the puckered scar that tugged on his upper lip.

“We need to work, miss—” His voice was gravel, bone-tired and weary.

“He’s not a criminal!” Kate pushed forward, and he held her back by her gripping her shoulders. When she brought her hands up to shove his away—or perhaps reach for her daggers, she hadn’t yet decided which—he grasped her forearms and pinned her in front of him. “He’s my _brother_! He’s the firstborn heir of House Trevelyan, not your _prisoner_! He’s—” Kate suddenly went limp, her hands resting against the Commander’s chest plate. _He’s all I have left_. Tears began to blur her vision. _Oh, Maker, Em and Will_.

“My lady.” The Commander took advantage of her sudden silence. “I understand that this is difficult. But our priority is the Breach. The pris—your brother, he is gravely injured, but we believe he may be able to help us close it. No one will harm him. We don’t—even know if he will survive his injuries, yet.”

Kate glared sharply at him, her hands balling into fists. “Like you would even care. You won’t let me in? Fine. Then let me go.” He obliged, releasing her arms. “But I know who you are, _Knight-Captain_ , and mark my words: if my brother dies. I will have your head for it.”

***

The woman turned on her heel and stalked away, hugging her arms to herself tightly. Cullen watched her evenly, but he inwardly sagged. She was so broken, and angry, and she had every right to be. If it were his brother laying in a Chantry dungeon with a strange magical wound, Cullen would cut down anyone standing in his way. He believed her threat.

He hadn’t even caught her name, though she clearly knew his. The mention of his former title made him start, and he would have corrected her, if he did not think it would probably set her to yelling again.

 _House Trevelyan_. So, their prisoner was nobility. Cullen was not sure if that made the situation better or worse. Mages cannot inherit title, and firstborns are almost never pledged to the Chantry. His motivations for sabotaging the Conclave would be unclear, and that would be an even bigger problem.

What was he even doing there in the first place?

He dragged a hand over his eyes, trying to beat back the headache threatening to burst from his skull. They were in a living hell of wraiths and nightmares, with no hope of getting out of this. Cullen blinked once, then twice. He had a name for their prisoner, a lead they could begin to trace even before he woke. Cassandra and Leliana would want that information.


	4. Into the Fire

Matthew did not wake up for three days.

When Sister Nightingale and the Knight-Captain ( _No_ , Kate reminded herself, he was no longer a Templar) rebuffed her, Kate’s retreat was a short one. Before long, she’d returned to the Chantry, railed against the doors, pleaded with anyone who would look at her, and swore up and down that she would bring them all to ruin if they didn’t let her see her brother.

In the end, it was an elven apostate who took pity on her. He’d been brought in to study the Breach—volunteered, as it were—and apparently the eldest Trevelyan had gained a strange magical wound.

He also apparently walked bodily through the Fade and lived, but Kate wasn’t dwelling too much on that part.

But Solas saw her at her wit’s end, and calmly told the Seeker and Sister that she could help him. He’d made up some excuse about her knowledge of Matthew’s history, and testing magical theories, but when they were left alone in the dungeon, he did nothing more than direct her to hand him a few things and monitor Matthew’s condition while he worked.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but… why did you help me?” Kate finally ventured as she splayed a hand across her brother’s brow. He was feverish, and she puckered a frown.

“They are being foolish.” Solas said shortly, waving a hand towards the door where the Seeker had departed. His blue-gray eyes were steely and sharp, and it seemed his tongue even sharper. “These children would not know true magic if it came and rapped them on the nose. Which,” He nodded towards Matthew. “It has.”

Kate deigned to ignore the ‘children’ remark, but filed it away for later. “So, you believe he’s innocent?" 

“I _know_ he’s innocent.” Solas huffed. “Your brother is not a mage, and even if he was, no mage in this era would have access to such strong, ancient magic. And keeping you away from him at such a time—it is callous, and unnecessary.”

In that moment, for all his haughty frustration, Kate decided that she liked Solas very much.

“What is this magic, then?” Kate placed a cool, damp cloth on Matthew’s forehead. “Where does it come from, and how did it attach to him?”

“All excellent questions,” Solas murmured as he gently raised Matthew’s hand in his own and inspected it. With the twitch of an eyebrow, a bright wisp of light burst into being next to him, illuminating the gaping wound. “Which I hope to answer soon.”

Kate did not consider herself a scholar, much less an expert on magic of any kind, but she was good at listening and thinking outside of the box. She let Solas talk through what sounded like extensive magical and scientific theory, crossing from mathematics to physics to Maker knows what with an ease that astounded her. He talked, and she listened, and sometimes he paused with a question that she would try her best to help him answer. Sometimes, she asked _him_ a question, and to her complete surprise, he would always sit and ponder it a moment before responding.

He took her seriously, and that felt a little bit like a first. Kate, second-born and barely over five feet tall, felt like she’d been fighting all her life to be taken seriously, and here it was Solas’ first instinct.

And after all that, Kate was not there when Matthew woke up. Neither was Solas. They’d been called to help staunch the fighting at one of the many rifts (well, Solas had been called, and Kate had glared when he suggested she stay behind, because _I need to make sure you stay alive to heal my brother, thank you very much_ ). They hypothesized that Matthew was branded with a Mark, a piece of ancient magic that was connected to the Fade and might allow him to seal the rifts in the Veil.

She was pulling her dagger out of a despair demon’s neck when Matthew crested the ridge.

“Katie?” She heard him call out in confusion. “Katie!”

“Demons first!” Kate yelled back, whipping a smaller knife from its sheath and launching it at a demon closing in on Solas. She caught its eye and it staggered back far enough for him to finish it off.

They killed the last of them, Solas helped him seal the rift, and then Kate nearly tackled her brother to the ground.

“I thought you were dead.” Kate mumbled into his chest, not at all minding how their armor pinched between them as Matthew held her tight.

“I know. I’m so sorry, Katie.” He breathed into her hair. “I tried. I’m sorry.”

A sob hitched in her throat. “Not now, Mattie. Not now.” She slapped tears from her face. “You have to seal the biggest rift to stop the Breach—and your Mark—from spreading any further.” Kate squared her shoulders and set her jaw. That was the other part she’d learned from Solas’ explanations—her brother was still in danger. She still had to save his life.

Kate gripped the hilts of her daggers, grief and anger and fear burning through her all at once. She refused to think about Emilie and William, about how their ashes were most likely scattered at her feet. She couldn’t. She _couldn’t_.

Right now, her job was watching her big brother’s back and getting them both through this alive.

And Kate would not fail again.


	5. All the King's Horses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: I finished my exams and passed them all! So, in coming back to this story, I realized I didn't like the flow of this chapter and have significantly revised some portions. Hopefully this reads better and will transition easier into the next chapters :) Thanks again everyone who's commented and bookmarked and left kudos!! It really means so much. <3 <3 <3

Matthew Trevelyan, newly-titled Herald of Andraste, succeeded in stabilizing the Breach.

And then, weakened by his magical injury and the strain of battle, he promptly fell unconscious.

To Cullen’s knowledge, his sister Katherine had not left Matthew’s side since. Until he woke, she glared daggers at everyone except Solas—whom she’d declared “the only competent man in this Maker-forsaken camp”—and grumbled under her breath about a tear in the sky being the least of their worries should her brother not make it through.

Admittedly, it had been a close call. Cullen was used to combat; he knew it and the sacrifices it entailed. But it did not make facing the families—the sister, in this case—of the men and women he now put in danger any easier. Although Cullen had nothing to do with the events that led to Matthew’s mark, he felt responsible all the same. And each time he walked across Haven, he still felt the lady’s glare hot on the back of his neck. She intended to keep her promise, should her brother fall.

And from what he recalled from the battlefield that day, Lady Katherine Trevelyan was not someone to underestimate.

She was everything he hadn’t expected, showing up on Solas’ heels wearing leather and armor like a second skin. Matthew was a force, wielding a two-handed sword with ease, but Katherine was a fury with her wicked daggers, and it was clear that she was utterly devoted to protecting her older brother.

Now, when Cullen passed by the Herald’s cabin, he noticed Katherine no longer wore leathers and daggers. She had changed into a plain outfit with an oversized hunting coat to block the cold, cinched by a belt at her waist. Where before she looked a warrior, now she looked as any other village woman, if it weren’t for her intricately braided hair and the practiced lift of her chin. Her shoulders were set back with perfect posture, and her accent flawless. What was the saying, up north? You can take a peacock’s feathers, but it will still strut.

Cullen sighed. Nobles.

***

Kate was exhausted.

Physically, mentally, and emotionally _drained_. She hadn’t known it was possible to be this many forms of tired.

She had barely slept in the two weeks since Matt woke up, and spent her days hovering around him as if he would disappear entirely if he left her sight. That first night, after the Inquisition was declared and the siblings had a moment’s peace, they held each other and cried until the sun came up.

Kate hadn’t shed a single tear since.

At first, Matt held onto her as much as he could—always a hand on her shoulder, or a finger linked around hers, or his feet resting against her legs when they sat and talked. Matt had always been the most physically affectionate sibling of the four of them, and Kate knew this was his way of reassuring them both.

But soon enough, he began wading into the new duties of being the Inquisition’s Herald of Andraste. Matthew was born to leadership, raised with the knowledge that he would one day be Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick, and he took to being the Herald like a duck to water. Matt was fully in his element, and it helped distract him from his grief. It gave him purpose.

She wasn’t so lucky.

Kate had offered what help she could, like joining some of the other women in the sewing and mending of garments and banners or helping the stable hands with what few mounts the Inquisition had. But word quickly spread of who she was—or, more accurately, who she was related to. Being the Herald’s sister and a noble lady seemed to earn her more sidelong glances and hushed whispers behind her back than it did friends.

So today, when Solas asked her to accompany him and help gather herbs just outside of Haven’s gates, she agreed a little quicker than he probably expected. She was quiet as they left, the clanging of swords from the training grounds barely muffled through the trees as they began their search.

“—if we can gather enough, I believe between myself and Adan we can improve our current poultices to be more potent.” Solas was saying as he placed some gathered plants in the basket Kate carried.

“That’s good.” She nodded, and they walked in companionable silence for a few moments, walking deeper into the forest. “I’m glad you’re going with my brother. To the Hinterlands.”

“So eager to be rid of me?” Solas asked with a wry smile, and Kate nudged his shoulder.

“You know what I mean. Varric is nice enough, and Cassandra…” Kate trailed off, not quite sure how she felt about the Seeker after all that had happened. “But I’m glad he’ll have you to watch his back. I trust you.” Kate remarked instead.

“I admit,” Solas ventured as he knelt to harvest a shoot of elfroot. “Not many would trust an apostate. You are a singular person.” Kate peered at him for a moment, watching the way he carefully held his shoulders down and ducked his chin in a show of humility.

“What do you see when you look at me, Solas?” He glanced up at her with a raised eyebrow at the change in topic, but she waited patiently for him to answer.

“I see an intelligent, spirited—”

“No.” Kate interrupted him, not rudely, and stood straighter with her shoulders back. “What do you _see_.”

Solas leaned away from the herbs, then, placing his hand on a nearby tree for balance and regarding her with those stormy blue eyes. A few seconds passed, as she watched him process the implications of the question. “I see a beautiful, young noblewoman, with the grace of a dancer. Or, more accurately,” He amended. “A fighter.”

Kate allowed one of her own eyebrows to raise, momentarily distracted from her point by his words. The comment on her beauty she recognized immediately as flattery, because Kate had eyes as well as anyone and knew that she looked as raggedly exhausted as she felt. But—“Are you suggesting I’m graceful?”

“No,” Solas’ lips quirked up slightly in a smirk as he stood, placing the elfroot in her outstretched basket. “I am declaring it. It was not a subject for debate.”

He was teasing her. She allowed him a small echo of a smile, then, and returned to her original line of thought. “That is what the world sees: a rich girl, a second daughter to a relatively important house, who likely knows nothing but court intrigue and how pretty she must be to snatch a good husband. The Trevelyans are old money, but we are also constantly expanding our influence, and it has led to _many_ presumptions about exactly how spoiled rotten I am.” She flashed him what would have been a real smile, then, if it did not show so many teeth. “There is a certain advantage to being underestimated. So, I let them. Just as you,” Kate nodded at him. “allow people to look at you and see a humble, world-weary apostate.”

“You are suggesting there’s more?” Solas tilted his head slightly, and she could not read the emotion in his eyes, then. “That I am allowing myself to be underestimated?”

“No,” Kate mirrored his movement. “I am declaring it.” She allowed herself a moment of self-satisfaction as she echoed his words back to him. “I know how to read people, Solas; I know an act when I see one, and I know that you are so much more than you allow them all to believe.”

“You would trust deception?” He asked.

“It is not a lie.” She replied decisively. “People will always see what they want to see. You simply do not contradict them. And what I’ve observed in you, what everyone else glosses over once they see your clothes or your staff,” Kate leaned forward slightly. “Is that you are utterly _brilliant_ , you are not afraid of rules, and you will do whatever it takes to achieve your task. Right now, that task is keeping my brother alive.”

There was a pause. Solas’ voice was quiet. “And what if that task becomes something else?”

Kate stared at him, unyielding. “Then we will have a different conversation. But that is not today’s problem, is it.”

Solas shook his head. “It is not.” He sighed. “Your dedication to your family is admirable, Katherine.”

“I—thank you.” Kate’s heart suddenly lurched into her throat. _It wasn’t enough_ , she thought as she turned away, making a show of pointing out a cluster of elfroot further down the path.  

_I wasn’t enough. I couldn’t save them._

***

“Cullen.” Cassandra caught him as he left the training area. “Have you seen—oh, there he is.”

He followed her gaze to the tree line, where Solas and Katherine appeared. Lady Trevelyan was looking back over her shoulder at the stoic elf, carefully balancing a basket on her hip.

“Solas.” Cassandra called out as they neared, catching their attention. “We are ready to brief for the trip tomorrow. It won’t take long.” She nodded to Katherine before beckoning both men to follow her.

“I’ll bring these to Adan.” Katherine smiled slightly at Solas.

“My thanks, Katherine.” He returned the smile gratefully. When she caught sight of Cullen, Katherine’s soft expression dropped clean off her face.

“Commander.” Her voice was flat.

“My lady.” Cullen all but grumbled as he turned to follow Cassandra. Solas kept pace with him, and soon Katherine was walking out of earshot. 

“How in the world did you gain her favor?” Cullen asked as he rested a hand on the pommel of his sword. “That woman is a hurricane.”

“An apt description, Commander.” Solas smirked. “We have spoken of many things, although I do not know when exactly we became amiable. Perhaps you should just try to speak with her. For a human, she can be very open-minded.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

Cullen couldn’t follow up on the apostate’s advice until after the briefing concluded. The sun was lower in the sky, and it took a brisk walk around Haven’s perimeter to find Katherine.

She stood alone at the edge of the lake, sunlight glancing off her dark hair. Her arms were wrapped around herself, much like the first day he met her.

Cullen cleared his throat as he stepped up behind her, not wanting to startle her with his presence. Katherine took her time turning to him.

“Can I help you, Commander?” Her voice was rough, like she was upset, but she held her shoulders back and pretended that it wasn’t. Damn nobility and their pride.

“I, um—that is, I wondered if you had a moment.” Cullen internally kicked himself for stumbling over the words, but she was watching him with those sharp eyes, and that long-suffering patience only a highborn lady could perfect. It was unnerving, her calm composure.

“Of course.” She clasped her hands in front of her, waiting.

“Right.” Cullen ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I wanted to—apologize. I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Do you mean when you dropped my dying brother in a dungeon to rot, when your people nearly put him on trial for a crime he didn’t commit, or when you forcibly kept me from him?” Katherine’s face was the picture of calm, but her tone was biting.

He sighed. “It was unfortunate, that it had to happen that way. But we had no idea what was going on.” 

“And that is your excuse?” She let a crease form between her brows, her voice lilting up only slightly in volume.

“I did not come to make excuses. We are all smarter in hindsight, but we did the best we could with the information we had.” Cullen folded his arms and clenched his jaw.

“You had _me_ telling you who Matthew is, and that he was innocent.” Katherine gathered a handful of her dress in a fist, crumpling the fabric. “Or does my testimony not qualify as  _information_?”

“We had to make a split-second decision in the heat of battle, with literal fire raining down upon us.” Cullen knew his voice was rising, but he didn’t care. “I apologize that it set the two of us at odds, but nothing more.”

Katherine glared hard at him, then. But he would not wilt under her imperious stare, if only for the fact he was certain so many had before. He’d met girls like her in Kirkwall; these noble women who think the world revolves around their desires, and they can get what they want with a snap of their fingers. Well, not in Haven.

“Fine.” Katherine snapped.

“Fine.” He turned on his heel, suddenly not trusting his ability to keep his composure. Why in the Void did this woman always seem to set him on edge?

Cullen made it three steps before Kate spoke again, her voice rushed and suddenly cracking with emotion. “Commander?” He stopped, turning back around. She approached him, then, and stood close enough that he could see the dusting of freckles across her cheekbones—and the tears brimming in her eyes. Maker take him, she’d been crying, and he’d started yelling. In the back of his mind, Mia was scolding his carelessness.

To Katherine’s credit, she blinked her tears back successfully and tilted up her chin so she could look him in the eye. “I’m sorry. You came here to apologize, and my response was unfair. I—” There was a slight hitch in her breath, and Cullen could see the tears forming again in her eyes, the way her voice rose in pitch as she tried to keep control. “I appreciate the effort to make things civil between us, Commander Rutherford.”

The words came out before Cullen could stop them, his voice low. “Are you alright, my lady?”

“Am I—” She stared hard at him, as if it was a capital offense to ask how someone was feeling. Where she came from, it probably was. “No, Commander, I am not alright. My only surviving sibling has gone and signed himself up for your Inquisition.”

“Lord Trevelyan bears the Mark, which is the only way to—”

“Yes, yes, to close the Breach and save the world.” Katherine waved her hand. “Matt is the only one who can fix this. But what happens if it kills him?” She choked back a sob, fluttering the back of her hand to her lips in an attempt to maintain what little composure she had left. A strand of hair had flown free from the braid nearest her ear, and Cullen felt the irrational impulse to tuck it back. He quashed it.

Katherine lowered her hand, her voice quavering. “I’ve already lost two siblings to this damn Breach.” One tear slid down her cheek, which she carefully brushed away, looking down at the ground between their feet. “I won’t lose a third.” 

Cullen froze. _Of course._ He’d nearly forgotten the reason that Matthew and Katherine were at the Conclave in the first place. The Trevelyans had a younger brother and sister—twins—who were mages, gone missing during the Rebellion. Matthew himself had chased down every lead he could for nearly a year to find them, with no luck; until the Conclave.

It was no small wonder Katherine very nearly ran him through when they first met. She’d lost everything.

“My lady, I—you have my deepest condolences, you and the Herald both. I cannot imagine your loss.” He could, almost, if it felt anything like the wracking guilt and despair he felt after losing his parents during the Blight. He hadn’t seen them in years. But that was not relevant now. “And I promise—I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep him safe.”

Katherine stared at him, and it was impossible to decipher what was happening behind those molten brown eyes. Finally, she pushed back her shoulders and nodded once. “Thank you, Commander. I will hold you to it.” She glanced to the side. “Now if you will excuse me, I would like some time alone.”

“Of course, my lady. Good evening.” And with that, he was gone.

*** 

After the Commander left, the wind picked up, and Kate pulled her coat tight around her shoulders. There was a pit of regret in her stomach for how she’d snapped at the man—she didn’t _hate_ him, not really. But Cullen Rutherford had become synonymous with the forces that kept her from helping Matt when he was dying, and she wasn’t sure if she could forgive him for that yet.

Right now, with the icy wind off the lake biting the exposed skin of her neck and ears, she didn’t just feel angry at the Commander. She was angry at the world, at the Maker, at the Conclave, at the Chantry—anyone who was responsible for her siblings, her entire world, going up that damned mountain path. And she was too tired to hold in her emotions any longer.

 _I’ll go on ahead and find them,_ Matt had said. _I’ll bring them back._

A sob hitched in Kate’s throat, which she barely choked down. She couldn’t break here; the Commander’s recent interruption proved that she was too easily found. So, Kate gathered her skirts and hurried back to the cabin she shared with Matt, nearly holding her breath in her attempt to keep her composure. But her temples throbbed and her eyes blurred and _damn it all, she could only see Will’s freckled face or hear Em’s melodic laugh_ —

There was movement in her cabin, Matt’s voice engaged in conversation, and Kate stopped cold. She couldn’t go in. She backed up a few steps, nearly running straight into someone else. 

“Katherine?” She whirled around, finding herself staring at the jawbone of a wolf. Kate looked up, meeting Solas’ concerned gaze.

“Excuse me, Solas,” Kate hated how her voice warbled. She hated the grating feeling in her throat and the hot tears pressing behind her eyes. “I was just looking for somewhere quiet. It seems our cabin is occupied.”

“If you would like some peace,” Solas stepped back, gesturing to his cabin up ahead. “You’re welcome to sit inside mine as long as you’d like. I will make sure no one bothers you.”

“Are you sure?” Kate sniffled, some small part of her mind screaming about impropriety, but the rest just concerned with getting out of sight before the impending waterworks started. And now her head began to _hurt_. When was the last time she slept?

“Certainly. I’ll put on some tea, and leave you be if that is what you wish.” He watched her carefully, his hand ghosting on her back as he guided her along. “Unless you’d like to share what’s on your mind?”

Kate shook her head, but followed him to his cabin and accepted his offer to sit in an armchair next to the fireplace. It sparked to life with a flick of Solas’ hand as he turned to prepare a kettle. She stared blankly at the flames.

_Look, Katie! I learned how to conjure fire!_

The first tear streaked down her face. Then the second. And that was all it took.

***

When Solas glanced back over his shoulder, Katherine was leaned forward, her face in her hands and her shoulders racking with silent sobs. Solas let out a small sigh. With all that the girl had endured, he had wondered when she would finally break.

He left her alone until the kettle brought to boil, and then he poured a cup of tea with the amount of sugar he knew she preferred. A well-meaning Josephine had appeared a few days prior with a kettle and tins of dried leaves, and he wasn’t quite willing to admit that he kept the stuff on hand after Katherine casually mentioned it was her favorite kind. (How such a smart, bright girl adored the vile drink completely escaped him, but to each their own.) Solas set it on the end table within her reach, kneeling next to her and placing a cautious hand on her shoulder.

“Katherine.” She started with a whimper, lowering her hands to look at him. Her face was blotchy, hot tears streaming down in rivers.

“I—I’m so sorry—” She tried to sit straighter, slap the tears from her face, but Solas gently grasped her hand and guided it back down to the space between them.

“No, there is no need for apologies.” He quietly assured her. “You are incredibly strong, that you have borne so much without reacting until now. But there is a time to feel, and you have every right to this.” He still held her hand in his, and he gave it a small squeeze. “You are safe here, and you don’t have to leave until you are ready. I will be just outside.”

Solas’ grudging respect for the hot-headed young lady had turned into some kind of familiarity, and he would protect that. He was nothing if not loyal to his pack. ( _But is he? Even now?_ ) Solas would let her grieve in private, as he knew someone of her noble bearing would prefer. One more squeeze of her hand, and he let go, picking up a book on his way out. He shut the door behind him as quietly as possible, and pretended not to hear her crying on the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments!! It means the world to me that anyone likes what I write :) 
> 
> I haven't quite worked out an updating schedule, I'm sort of just posting these as I finish them. Final exams are coming up, which means that I will either disappear entirely or write a bunch out of procrastination (because dragon age seems to be my favorite procrastination method these days). But I do have quite a bit written for later, so I'll definitely stick with this story for a while <3


End file.
